


Sentimentality

by Astronomical_Aphrodite



Series: This Journey Never Ends [3]
Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lazy Mornings, Making Out, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22877521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronomical_Aphrodite/pseuds/Astronomical_Aphrodite
Summary: Trish and Theo were an unlikely couple, but they made it work.
Relationships: Theodora "Theo" Crain/Trish Park
Series: This Journey Never Ends [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571791
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	Sentimentality

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and it’s what woke her up, shining through her closed eyelids and stirring her from her peaceful slumber. Trish’s bed, with its memory foam mattress and veritable mountain of comforters and pillows, was carefully curated for comfort like an art exhibit, but the warm body beside her brought it to a higher level. With their legs tangled together, stubble chafing against skin, and Trish laying with her ear pressed against Theo’s chest. Her arm would eventually fall asleep, as Theo was laying across the numbed limb, but for now, she was content to stay where she was.

Patricia ‘Trish’ Park had always been one for sentimentality.

As a child, she’d religiously collected everything from birthday cards and lunchbox notes from her mother to roses from her girlfriends and test papers she scored particularly well on. Scrapbooking found its way into her life early on — she could still remember her aunt teaching her to paste paper and photos so that there weren’t any lumps from the glue, cutting shapes from crafting paper with an expert’s precision — and since then, she’s done it for every occasion that yielded enough photos, and even made yearly albums to document her achievements.

Considering that she was such a sensitive person, she recognized that it was strange how attached she’d gotten to Theo. After that first night, with the gloves and the work in the morning and the sister, she should’ve been turned off from Theo, known that the woman was trouble, but something about her made her keep coming back. There was the funeral, of course, and she recognized now that it was an overstep of her boundaries to show up unannounced. She’d apologized for it later, of course, at the burial. But then a few days later, after the news that Hugh Crain had committed suicide at Hill House and a fourth had nearly died, and it was Theo contacting her.

“I’d really like to meet up for coffee or something,” Theo had said over the phone, voice sounding hesitant, and Trish had needed to sit down in her kitchen, hand fisting the fabric of her skirt. The phone call had come as a surprise, and the proposition was even more shocking. “That’s— um, that’s if you’d like to, of course.”

“Of course,” Trish had repeated, “yeah, definitely. Does Friday work for you?”

Friday had worked. The next morning, too. Over the next two weeks, they’d gone out almost every day, had clicked like puzzle pieces after they’d figured out how to properly orient themselves, and now, they’d moved in together. It had been the day before, the seventeenth of November, that they had finished moving in the boxes, and they’d broken in the bed that night with such vigor that Trish could still feel the pleasant ache in her joints, and her hips where Theo had held onto her like she was afraid she’d leave.

Now, they lounged in their bed together, and Trish watched her girlfriend sleep as she reminisced about how far they’d come in the past three weeks. In the morning light, she was stunning, all hard lines and careless beauty, and Trish wondered how she could’ve possibly gotten so lucky as to have Theo let her into her life. She’d been a private person, understandably so, but it was worth it to break through her hard exterior, because Theo was compassionate and soft underneath the bravado. She put on a brave face, but sometimes her career could wear her down, dealing with her father’s funeral proceedings had been a long, arduous process.

“Mornin’,” Theo said, voice throaty with sleep. Trish hadn’t realized she’d woken up.

“Good morning,” Trish returned easily.

They cuddled, and she continued to look at her lover’s body, the way she was relaxed and basking like a cat in the sunlight streaming through the window panes. Her eyes caught on the glove box on the nightstand, and even though it was early in the morning, her curiosity had been stirred. Besides, Trish knew that if she didn’t ask then, she’d forget and lose the opportunity that had presented itself to her.

“You never told me what the gloves were for,” Trish mused, skimming her hand over Theo’s abdominals. Theo wasn’t as muscular as Trish, but she was still ripped, and the latter appreciated the way her body seemed to exude confidence and power. “I know this has been pretty fast,” she continued, “but if you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

Humming, Theo rubbed her nose against her forehead, pulling her closer. She was frowning, but the expression seemed more contemplative than sorrowful or angry, and so Trish tried to not let it worry her. “The complete answer is kind of difficult to believe,” she said hesitantly.

Trish shrugged, smiling at her reassuringly. “If you don’t think that I’ll believe you,” she said gently, reaching up to brush her silky black hair out of her face as their eyes met, “then start with the short answer, and tell me the full story later, whenever you’re ready.”

Theo met her gaze for a long moment, gauging whether or not she was telling the truth and searching for any hint of insincerity, but she found none. Lacing their fingers together, she brushed her lips against her knuckles, closing her eyes as her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. “I get overstimulated by certain things,” she said at last, “textures, temperatures, feelings. The gloves help me block out the things that bother me, and I use mysophobia as an excuse because it’s less embarrassing.”

The answer came shockingly easy, and Trish nodding sympathetically, squeezing the hands that were holding hers. “If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Trish said immediately, “then I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” Theo breathed, “but you’re perfect, anyways.”

“Are you comfortable with giving the full answer?” She asked warily, and after a moment, Theo shrugged.

“My mother’s side of the family was weird,” Theo said briskly. Rolling over and staring up at the ceiling, she smiled fondly, like she was lost in a memory. “The women in the family were typically ‘sensitive,’ as my mother liked to call them,” she continued, “but like, not in the sexist way. More like the creepy, supernatural—“

“Psychic sort of way,” Trish finished, and Theo nodded.

“Sometimes, when I touch things,” she continued, “I just get overwhelmed by the things I feel, the memories I see.” Pausing, she laughed ruefully, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she tried not to look at Trish. “I know I sound crazy—“ Theo said, but Trish shook her head.

“You don’t.” Theo wasn’t a liar, she knew that much, and after her fucked up childhood, Trish wasn’t sure why she would even want to lie about something like that. She already had enough attention, to the point where sometimes she’d get stopped and recognized in public. _That Hill House woman,_ they’d say, _from the news!_ The two recent deaths had brought on a new wave of interest in the decrepit manor, and it showed. “I believe you.”

Theo turned to stare at her, searching for something in Trish’s expression that would betray her true feelings, but she found nothing. Smiling softly, she planted a gentle kiss on Trish’s nose, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said, and Trish shrugged.

“Nothing to thank me for,” she said. After a moment, she trailed her finger across Theo’s arm, tracing the defined line of her bicep up towards her shoulders before cupping her jaw with her palm. “What do I feel like?” She asked, morbidly curious. She only just realized it might’ve been inappropriate when Theo laughed, amused.

“You feel like,” Theo mused, skimming her ungloved hand across the sensitive skin of her bare stomach. She laughed, knees jerking upwards as the touch tickled her, and Theo smiled into her shoulder, pearly teeth peaking between smudged lips. “Like happiness,” she finally said, “homemade chocolate, and kisses on the forehead. Preserved birthday cards and Snapple bottle-caps, the kind with the trivia on the inside of them.”

“Really,” Trish said, and when Theo nodded, she bent down to peck her forehead. The woman laughed, burying her face deeper into her shoulder, and when Trish rolled her over, straddling her muscular stomach, she didn’t protest the sudden movement. She bent down to kiss her, lips touching gently, and Theo grabbed the back of her neck, deepening the kiss.

“You’re such a sap,” Theo ground out into her lips, and Trish laughed, rubbing the junction between her neck and her shoulder. An elegant, lean hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing it gently as her thumb rubbed into the naked flesh, and Trish hummed. “You okay with this?” She asked, and Trish nodded.

“More than okay,” she assured her, and the hand dipped lower, cupping her increasingly wet folds.

When they finished, collapsing against the bed in a giggly, tangled mess of sweaty limbs and messy hair, they stared into each other’s eyes, unable to look away. Theo caressed her face, leaning forwards into another kiss, and it was warm and intimate and everything Trish had ever wanted, but never expected to receive. “Where did you come from?” Theo panted against her lips, and it was so painfully sentimental that Trish kissed her again and smiled until her cheeks hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two so fucking much.
> 
> Can we get some more content for them, please? ;)


End file.
